The Hooded Prince
by Etimire T
Summary: Prince Merlin, cursed with magic, has been forced to hide his face and glowing eyes all his life. In frustration, he discards his mask while alone in the forest. However, when Arthur, the magicless nephew of a druid, sees his glowing eyes, Merlin must don a new persona. Things get complicated when Arthur unwittingly becomes Merlin's manservant. Can Merlin juggle this double-life?
1. The Hooded Prince

**_Hello! I would like to give credit to BBC Merlin, who owns all characters that appear in the show. I also give props to Jenny Lundquist, who wrote, The Princess in the Opal Mask, for the ideal of a masked royal. Now, please enjoy:)_**

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The mask was black; as was the hood. It was something someone might wear at a funeral, Merlin mused. Or something an assassin would don.

Hardly the attire of a prince.

Yet here he was. His life was one full of polarities.

For example:

A prince, but definition [according to his father] did not have magic and was to be a strong and mighty warrior.

Well.

As for the latter, Merlin had been the scorn of his fencing instructors for years. He could hardly lift the ruddy thing.

And… magic? Yes. Magic.

It was the reason for the mask in the first place. Ever since he was a small child. His eyes sparked and glowed at random. Usually, he stared out of startlingly bright blue eyes, but every so often, the color would swirl like a difficult storm and sunlight shined forth. Golden eyes.

Magic.

Uther was appalled. Not only was his birth the cause of the queen's demise, but Merlin was also hardly kingly material. Merlin was a bookish boy. Merlin hated parties and fancy clothing and being waited on.

And to top it all off, he was a creature of magic.

A creature to be despised and destroyed.

The fact that he was not drowned like all of the other druid children the moment his abilities became obvious was proof of the small bit of remaining humanity in Uther's heart. At least, Merlin imagined that that was what it was.

All the same, he wore a black mask that covered his entire face, excluding his mouth and eyes. The black hood cast a deep shadow, rendering a look of emptiness within the hood, and effectively hiding his flashing eyes. Black. Black. Black.

Sometimes Merlin wondered if he was being forced to mourn his own existence. The morbid thought made him roll his eyes at his own dramatic musings. It was a fitting punishment, according to Uther, for an abomination such as Merlin Pendragon.

That had been made clear to him by his father more times than he could count. Merlin, every inch of him, every flash of his eyes, every flame flickering in his direction, every window that broke without prompting, was an abomination. His magic was evil. It would inevitably corrupt him. He was only alive and cared for because of the king's kindness and the people's ignorance. If the public ever found out why the prince wore a mask, Uther foretold, Merlin would have to be exiled immediately and would be lucky not to be hanged by his father's own decrees. He was balanced on the edge of a sword.

It was within these wandering, dark thoughts that a voice finally pierced the prince's awareness. He blinked away his contemplations and turned his gaze from the window.

"Did you say something?" he asked his tutor.

The tutor was a speck of a man with a crooked back, a loosely hinged jaw, and a goatee so sharp he could have sewn embroidery as he yapped. He gave the prince an irritated glare.

He was the only man desperate enough to discard the fearful rumors surrounding the Masked Prince. According to Uther, the people could muse and plot and wonder all they liked about the reason behind his mask, as long as those rumors remained exactly what they were. Rumors.

The Professor was about to pick up his horribly dull lecture when a servant knocked on the door and entered timidly.

"Sire?" the servant spoke quietly.

Merlin turned toward him, grateful for the distraction. "Yes?"

"The King requires your presence at once."

Merlin frowned, an action the servant could not see because of the hood. With a sigh, Merlin stood. His options were thus: die of boredom listening to politics, or meet with his father.

At least, the meeting would be shorter [although probably much less pleasant]. Nodding sharply in the direction of the semi-relieved professor, Merlin followed the servant out of the room. The door thudded shut behind them, and their steps soon echoed down the long castle halls. The white stone walls posed in stark contrast to the dark hood of the crown prince. As they walked, Merlin wondered what his father could possibly want. Had there been an accident? An attack? Uther did not just _summon_ him without reason. On the contrary, the king avoided his son.

They reached Uther's quarters within minutes, and with a quick bow, the nervous servant tittered off. The servants were always fearful around Merlin [thanks to the rumors]. Actually, nearly everyone was. Except perhaps Gias. And Morgana.

"Merlin? Don't hesitate, boy!" Uther's voice started Merlin out of his thoughts. Quickly the prince opened the door and peered in. Everything appeared to be in order. No dead bodies. No frantic screams. No witch hunter or something like that. Even Gias, the court physician, was absent. What was wrong then? Entering fully, Merlin clasped his hands behind his back. His father was alone at his elaborate desk, stony and stiff as usual. He gripped his pen like it was a weapon, the mounds of paperwork, his enemy.

"Sire?" Merlin murmured quietly.

Uther turned toward him slowly, as if it was an ache to do so. He stood, lips tight like a whipping belt. "There you are. A prince does not hesitate, Merlin."

"Yes, sire. And here I am."

"Rightly so."

They were silent for a moment, each judging the other's mood. Merlin shifted his weight and Uther coughed awkwardly. Then at once, they spoke.

"Is something wrong-?"

"I have a fav-"

They stopped. Clearing his throat, Uther cast him a confused glare. "No. Nothing's wrong. Why would there be?"

 _Why? Because you don't call me without it being absolutely necessary._

"Why am I here, then?"

Uther nodded slowly. He stepped nearer but continued to keep his distance. It was as if he considered Merlin's 'condition' contagious. "I have a proposition for you," he rumbled.

Merlin's chest squeezed.

That would not be good. Those words were never good when it came from Uther's lips. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the king through the slits. There was one advantage to the hood; he had no need to hide the irritation in his eyes. What did the King want now? "Alright," Merlin murmured. No trace of his nerves in his voice. He'd gotten good at disguising it. "What is it then?"

For a moment, Uther hesitated. As if he would not speak at all. But then the king shook his head and sighed. His eyes flashed venomously. "You are in a unique position, Merlin. Your mask lends you… a certain fame while continuing your existence in anonymity. The surrounding countries are enthralled by the mystery you present; not to mention the fascination of my own people. They gather in masses to see you.

"It is not the sentiment I expected but I believe it is time to use it to our advantage."

"Your _advantage."_ He pursed his lips. "What do you have in mind?"

Uther smiled but his eyes remained dead. Like an animal's. It sent chills up Merlin's back. "I want you to travel the country. Away from Camelot. You would be a… diplomat, of sorts. People will listen to you. They would not risk not doing so lest the rumors turned out to be true. The people are fascinated by the Hooded Prince."

Not Merlin. They could care less about _Merlin_. The skinny, serious, black haired boy with a funny little smile that only Merlin had ever seen. They cared for the Hooded Prince; the peculiarity that he was.

The fascination they expressed, Merlin knew, was not one of devotion but pity. It was the same fascination that drew the masses to watch beheadings and burnings and other ungodly executions. It made them feel better about themselves as they gawked. _I may have it bad, but least I'm not him,_ they'd think. Their fascination was laced with fear, disgust, and awe. They wondered why the King would force his own son to hide his face. What sort of atrocity must that boy be? Some though that his face could stop the hearts of those who gazed upon it. Either by his great ugliness or great beauty, depending on who you asked. The rare man might say that there was never a Prince at all, and that the King was simply switching out volunteers to live beneath the hood. Even wilder, some thought that he was an elf or a magical creature of some sort, brought into the world by the King's unfaithfulness.

Of course, these rumors were never spoken directly to the king. Merlin knew of them through the whispering of the servants as he hid in the shadows year after year, gathering more information and wondering why he cared in the first place. The rumors murmured on and on. The ordinary people feared what they did not know. And in that aspect, Uther Pendragon was a very ordinary man indeed. He was terrified of the unknown.

But none of this musing was truly important.

Uther was sending him away. That was what mattered most. And as a consequence, it was what hurt the greatest. The realization sent a cut of betrayal into Merlin's stomach. He gulped.

The king made it sound like a holiday, a privilege, an honor. Like he was finally trusting his mistake of a son with something.

Merlin wasn't fooled. He was not an idiot, and it seemed his father had not spent enough time around him to know it. In that moment of silence, Merlin peered into his father's averted eyes and saw no confidence. No pride in his son.

Only envy. Deep rooted, green-tinged jealous. Merlin let the disgust he felt shine clearly on his hidden face. Could the man fall any lower in Merlin's esteem? Uther wanted that attention; the attention the Hooded Prince received. The hype and clamor. He was not going to get it with his son in the way. Merlin clenched his fists and trembled. The familiar heat of magic came unwanted to his eyes, but instantly, he pushed it away.

 _If you want attention so bad, why don't you try wearing the ruddy hood?_ "What prompted this decision? Is there a reason?"

Uther blinked. He did not respond for a moment, but then his words came quickly. "The Hoods are growing in number. If they continue to increase, they could pose a problem. You know what they wish to do."

Merlin knew very well. The Hoods were a group of people who vied for Merlin's ascension. Immediately and violently. They wore black hoods similar to Merlin's and spend most of their time in the rowdy corners of the capitol. They had never been more than vandalists. Merlin watched, waiting for the slight twitch in his father's left eye which would reveal his deception.

Uther's eye twitched. Just barely.

And Merlin nearly bit through his lip to keep from lashing out.

Retaliating would prove his father right, [at least in Uther's eyes] That his magic had corrupted him. At long last.

Deadly calm, his anger and hurt almost simmering the air around him, Merlin stepped closer to his father and stared through his mask. For the first time, he was grateful for the terrifying image the hood made him out to be. "If you wish me gone, _father,_ at least, grant me the decency of not lying to my face. I knew eventually your ego would not allow you to keep me under your roof, but like it or not, sire, I am your son. The Hooded Prince is a creature of _your_ making."

Uther attempted to interrupt, red in the face, but Merlin plowed right on. He let the pain of thousands of received insults pour into his words. "I have been shunned since my very birth and now you would parade me as a peculiarity. If I am soon corrupted, then it is by _your_ influence, not the magic I wield."

"Silence boy!" Uther hissed. "You know not your place."

Merlin snorted. "I know my place very well, sire. You have made your opinion of me well known. As I said. I will leave. I'll pack my bags and be your ruddy diplomat."

Whirling away with what he hopped was a significantly dramatic flare, Merlin swallowed down the ice cold magic in his throat. Sparks of fire danced in his eyes. No one saw his trembling fingers as he strode toward the door. Why was life so unfair?

"Wait." Uther's voice was strange. Stoney and dignified. And yet laced with a broken bit of sadness like a streak of cool water in lava. Merlin paused in spite of himself, hand wrapped around the handle. He clung to it like a lifeline. Uther sighed. "Take a manservant with you," he finished lamely. "When you leave."

"Can't. The last one quit."

"Get a new one. I'm sure there are plenty of boys willing."

"You'd be surprised. They like to see me from the confines of the balcony. Being a manservant is a bit too close for comfort." _Besides, I don't need help or protection. Not from you._

Uther was silent for a moment. "I will see to it that this is remedied."

His forehead crinkling in confusion, Merlin almost turned back. He stopped himself at the last second. His father baffled him. One moment he was jealous and despised Merlin's existence. And the next, Uther wanted to make sure his son didn't travel alone. What sort of man was he, to hate him, send him away, and yet hesitate at the end like this?

It didn't make sense.

But Merlin supposed it didn't really matter. Uther made it clear that his peculiar son would not be coming back into Camelot until the king himself had traveled yonder.

Then, Merlin would come home weighed down by the chains of a crown. Just the thought made his stomach twist painfully.

 _One worry at a time, Merlin,_ Merlin told himself. _One worry._

 _You have enough problems as it is._

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AN: Thanks for reading! I update sporadically, but I'm pretty excited about this story so hopefully updates will be fast. Tell me what you think:)) Uther is a pain in the bottom, as usual, but he's particularly nasty in this story, in my opinion. Also, It might take a bit to see the usual cheerful, grinning, sarcastic Merlin we all know. He's holding a lot of resentment against himself, which in the cannon, he never had. Anyway, leave a REVIEW with your honest opinion:DDD


	2. The Sojourner

2

The Sojourner

Instead of packing, as he should, Merlin stood in the center of his large, although admittedly bare, bedroom. His hands fretted at his sides, unsure. His stillness was not the sort that stemmed from laziness but indecision. Loss. Nothing seemed to work in his favor. Ever.

How was he to tell Morgana? She would be devastated by his departure. A small shiver of pleasure almost rippled through him. Was it horrible that he was glad at least one person would miss him? Not the Hooded Prince. But Merlin Pendragon. Just him.

But he couldn't think like that. Leaving would hurt his friend. One of his only friends. And she had never even seen his face. Gias had seen it. Probably Uther Pendragon as well. But that was all.

Another wave of sadness made him clench his fists. He was going to leave Gias. Gias, who was more a father to him than Uther ever was. He was the only other one who looked at Merlin like he was just a boy with a skinned knee or a shiver-ish cold.

Quickly his sadness shifted to frustration. At the hood and mask. At Uther. At Camelot and her stupid laws. Quivering, Merlin finally made his decision. He needed to get out. Not out of Camelot.

 _Out of the mask._

Just for one night. Just one time. It was stupid. Deadly if he was caught.

In a few hours, he would return, finish packing, make his farewells. But right now Merlin couldn't stand another suffocating moment looking at his reflection and seeing nothing but emptiness peer back.

Quickly, Merlin took up the plainest pieces of clothing he could find and change into them. A dark blue shirt, brown pants, red handkerchief. Still donning the mask and hood, Merlin exited the bedroom and snuck into the hall.

Sneaking around the castle was ridiculously easy. Someone really ought to the train the guards more efficiently. But as of right now, Merlin was grateful for their negligence. Within a matter of minutes, Merlin stood before a tattered red tapestry in an unused wing of the castle. He ran his fingers across the delicate fabric and then pulled it aside. There was a door behind it, which Merlin did not hesitate to enter. He had discovered this passageway ages ago but had always been too nervous and desirous of his father's approval to try it. An old map, which he had studied years ago, revealed that the passageway let out somewhere in the forest outside of Camelot's walls. It was meant to be an escape for the Royals during a siege.

Shutting the entrance, Merlin listened to the dank interior. Water dripped and somewhere a frog gurgled. Its burps echoed down the stone walls. A deeply rooted smell of rot devoured the place, and Merlin wrinkled his nose.

It was not until several minutes of walking, did Merlin realize he saw perfectly well despite the complete lack of a light source. His eyes must be glowing. Nervousness twisted Merlin's gut. Perhaps this was not a good idea.

But he had gone this far. And the forests would be empty of robbers this close to Camelot. It was very late in the night. No one would see him.

Besides, a rebellious voice whispered, he needed this. If he kept thinking about this, he'd talk himself out of it.

 _I'm already bending to my father's wishes by leaving, still masked, from Camelot._

 _Just let me have this one night._

The passage took a sharp turn to the left and then ended abruptly with a staircase. At the top, there was a door without a knob. It was slanted, similar to a trap door. His heart beating in his throat, Merlin ascended the stairs and pressed a hand against it. He waited.

What was he expecting? His father's voice to come booming from behind him? A shiver of energy as he exited Camelot alone?

The door merely stuck. Merlin pursed his lips

Right. It was probably grown over by foliage.

Frowning in concentration, Merlin rammed his weight into the door. The door didn't even budge. Of course not.

He tried again to no avail.

Well. He was already going into all of this trouble to get out; he couldn't stop now. With a twist of guilt and fear lingering his gut, Merlin gently pulled at the strand of fire that had always resided within him. It responded warmly and immediately, fanning his body with ease. Merlin sighed in relief. Never using magic was like never opening his eyes, never taking a breath, never sitting down. His fingers were quivering. Merlin set his hand against the door and pushed.

His magic rushed, suddenly far too fast, and the door flew from its frame and out of sight, making a startlingly loud wooden crack.

Merlin froze, fear rising like bile in his throat.

 _Someone saw. Someone's going to catch me and burn me, and my ashes will be mixed in the-_

 _Dear gods, it's in a tree._

Merlin, having stepped out slightly, spotted the trap door swinging above him.

The map had held true. He was outside of Camelot. Turning slowly, Merlin spotted Camelot's towering walls. The strong pillars of the castle were shoved into the ground in a way that screamed stubbornness. The bones of the kingdom held tight in Uther's grip. Merlin shook his head, ridding himself of thoughts of his father. Right now he didn't want to think about any of that.

"How am I supposed to fix that?" Merlin muttered, staring up at the door in the tree. It swung creakily back and forth in the wind. Suddenly there was a crack and a shake and the door thudded to the floor, scattering crimson leaves in its wake.

Cringing at the noise, Merlin hesitated and then tip-toed to the door. It was heavy and damp in his hands. Quickly, he hauled it back to the tunnel and set the door over the hole. He adjusted a few branches over the top.

There. No one would ever know.

Shivering, Merlin pulled away, deeper into the forest. It wasn't cold, but he felt like a toy rattled by a dog, jumping and jittering at every sound.

 _I shouldn't have done this._ He wasn't brave enough. Not strong or confident enough to pull this off.

Pull it off.

Before he could talk sense to himself, Merlin's fingers wrapped feverishly around the clasp on his cloak and the tie that held up the mask beneath. In moments, with a few simple flicks, the cloak fell like spilled ink of the Prince's shoulders, revealing his skinny form. The mask fell soon after.

For a moment, Merlin felt paralyzed, staring at it. It was light in his hands, black and almost weightless. How could something so thin and insignificant feel like such a burden? The only other times Merlin had ever taken the mask off was when he was alone in his room.

"I'm still alone," Merlin whispered to himself, still not taking his eyes away. But he sure wasn't in his room.

At that, a smile crept up his face and with an uncertain mixture of disdain and care, Merlin wrapped the mask in the cloak and tucked it between the roots of a large oak tree. He would remember it.

Once the deed was done, Merlin exhaled slowly. "What now?" he whispered.

The world brightened around him, and Merlin smiled.

Now, it was time to run.

Merlin had not thought himself as particularly athletic. Then again, try sword fighting in a floor-length cloak and a mask. It took considerable effort not to fall on his face. With the myriads of instructors who had all left in disgust, it was a wonder Merlin tried to run at all.

But right now.

Right now he felt like he could fly.

The world was zipping past him. The moonlight and the light from his eyes were more than enough to brighten his way, so he ran and ran.

Not toward anything. Not away either.

Just running. For the sake of it.

Was that odd?

Maybe it was just the knowledge that this was his. His moment. His piece of the night that no one could dissect. No whispers. No watching eyes.

 _Just me._

And right then? That was more than enough.

After a long time, Merlin never knew how long, the Prince skidded to a stop. His steps scraped against a pebbled beach, and a great expanse of black water lurked ahead of him. A lake.

Breathing heavily, Merlin bent down to catch his breath, his eyes straying to the floor. His boots were caked in mud. Have to fix that when I get back.

Satisfied, Merlin dropped to the ground, crossing his long legs. He looked out over the water and absently flicked a stone. It plopped into the water and sank, causing ripples to expand farther and farther until he could no longer see them.

Amazing. All of that racket from one little stone.

It was then that he first heard it. The rustle of footsteps, the clips of rushing horses, and finally the sound of steel.

Instantly, Merlin stiffened. Do I move? Will they see me if I move? Oh, gods, Uther has found me. He figured it out.

There were voices. Loud. Jeering. Not like knights. "Get yer blooming arse back here, you thieving piece of cattle slop!"

Carefully, Merlin crept from the beach toward a large tree. There was a small sort of hollow beneath the roots where the water had eroded the land away. Silently, Merlin crawled under and peaked to look toward the sound. For a moment, there was nothing but trees. But then.

There.

A flicker of fire. A torch?

Were they coming closer?

Several men, gruff, were talking all at once, but a sharper voice cut the sound. "Look, you stole it from the woman, why shouldn't I steal it back?"

"That was my horse!" someone shouted.

Merlin pulled back, deeper into the hollow, wishing he had a way out of this situation. None, that he could see. To get back to Camelot, he would have to run through the midst of the men.

"Blimey, you're thick," the younger voice said. "Just cause you stole it didn't mean I couldn't take it back."

"Give me my horse."

"I haven't got your horse! I gave it back to the woman you took it from!"

There were sounds of scraping footsteps, rustling leaves as the men stepped nearer. "I don't know who you think you are, boy, but I am-"

"You are a spineless thieving brute. Yes, I know. That has been established."

The man roared, and Merlin cringed. The boy was going to get himself killed with talk like that.

 _He's going to die while I cower here in this corner._

That did not sit right. Merlin pursed his lips. Maybe he could distract the men while the boy-

Too late. The silhouetted form broke away from the men, just missing a lunge by a tallish hunk, and dashed.

"Get him!" They shouted in various manners, rushing in the direction the boy had run.

They thundered off, and after a moment, the boy darted back from the direction he had come. Instead of running toward Camelot, as he had made it seem, the young man was running straight toward the lake.

Wait.

Shoot.

Merlin tried to scramble away, but the boy was too fast, with agility, he jumped over a fallen tree log and swung himself into the hollow, which he must have spotted.

Right next to Merlin.

The boy was breathing heavily.

He started violently when he saw Merlin. "Holy- who on Earth are you?"

Merlin opened his mouth. No words escaped. No mask. He was sitting here without a mask.

"No matter," the young man continued. He withdrew a dagger from his boot and pointed it at Merin matter of factly. "Let me hide here as well otherwise, I will kill you."

Merlin blinked. He barely registered the dagger. Finally, words found his lips. "W-with that little thing?" he said.

The young man's eyes narrowed. "It's quite sharp. Would you like a demonstration?"

Now that he was speaking, words came faster than Merlin could control. "I think it is our best interests if we are quiet, so your spineless thieving brute doesn't find us."

The man let the dagger drop to his side quickly. He smirked and whispered. "That was a good one, wasn't it?"

"It was insane. He could have killed you."

"Naw," the man shrugged and settled deeper into the hollow. They went silent as the thieves thundering steps came closer again.

"Where'd he go?"

"Look by the lake!"

Both boys stiffened, hardly daring to breathe.

They're going to find him. And then they'll find me, and the Prince won't show up tomorrow, and what on earth were you thinking, doing this?

"Can you stop that?" the young man whispered beside him. "They might see."

Merlin turned to look at him. "Stop what?"

"Are you and elf or something?" The man said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Your eyes. They're bright."

Merlin flinched. Were his eyes glowing again? And if they were, why was the boy so calm? His words came out in a jumbled heap. "Oh. Ah, no. I don't really know-"

"Shh," the man interrupted him quickly. The footsteps were closer now. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Do it!" There was a something strong in the man's voice, and Merlin's eyes snapped shut immediately. Did that strength come from leadership or ego? Merlin wasn't sure.

They sat like that in the mud and the dark and the quiet for several minutes. Finally the shouts of the bandits or brutes or whoever they were faded into the distance. They thought the young man had ultimately headed toward Camelot.

A sigh of relief left the young man's lips, and he vaulted himself out of the hollow quickly. "Come on. Quickly. I've got a better hiding place. That was thrilling, wasn't it?"

"Not the word I would have used."

The young man laughed. "You're alright, kid." He stuck down a hand, and Merlin grabbed it hesitantly. His grip was strong and warm as he pulled Merlin up. They were soon on the beach once more. The man started toward the forest. "My camp is a bit west. It's pretty hidden, and those idiots haven't enough brains nor effort to search that deep. We'll be safer there."

Merlin nodded, brow furrowed, and nervously followed. The man had seen his eyes. Did he know it was magic? Of course, he knows it's magic. He also had to know that keeping company with 'magicked folk' was against the law. So why would he offer to share his camp?

The man seemed to sense Merlin's confusion because he smiled a sad sort of smile. He knew exactly what Merlin was thinking."Hey, it's alright." the man murmured, He glanced toward where the thieves had disappeared. Still nervous, of course. "I'm not going to hurt you. I mean, I tried to kill you, sort of, but that wasn't because of magic or whatever that is you've got."

Merlin blinked, suddenly aware of his maskless face once more. Were his eyes glowing now? No. He couldn't see very well. "Why?" he asked.

"Let's go." he answered impatiently. I'll explain on the way."

Still Merlin hesitated. "How do I know you haven't got someone waiting at your camp to catch me?"

The man gave Merlin a look like he'd drooled onto his shirt. "I was just running for my life. Do you really think I had time to plan to run into an elf and then convince him into coming back with me all so that I can hand him over for a few coins?"

Merlin wasn't sure what to say. That made an irritatingly large amount of sense.

There was a shout in the distance, and it pushing Merlin over the edge. The forest soon swallowed the young man and Merlin.

"What's your name?" Merlin said between breaths and the thuds of his feet.

The blonde looked back. "Arthur."

 ** _AN: Sorry about the wait. Please leave a REVIEW :DDDD_**


	3. Into Battle

3

" _I'm not_ **actually** _an elf."_

" _Coulda fooled me. Who are you then?"_

" _... M-Morgan."_

" _Strange name."_

" _Thanks?"_

Merlin smiled at the thought. Last night was one of the few pleasant things he had to think about at the moment. He'd told the man his name was Morgan. It was the first name to come to mind. Idly, Merlin traced the embroidery on the cuff of his sleave with his finger. He'd gotten back into Camelot with only a bit of mishap.

" _So you live in Camelot? What's it like?"_

" _Well… it's busy, I suppose. Everyone has somewhere to be. Something important to do." Merlin poked the fire between them with a stick. It flared and Merlin quickly withdrew the contact._

" _Wow." Arthur smiled. "I'm trying to get a job there. Work my way up."_

 _Merlin cocked his head. "Up to what?"_

" _Being a knight, of course. The idiot_ aristocrats _could do with some common sense nearby." The way he said_ aristocrats, _it could have been a dirty disease._

 _Didn't he realize commoners could not become knights? Merlin said as much and Arthur merely waved his words away. Like this was only a minor inconvenience. "Not that I'd want to be some snob's lapdog, but… there's things worth doing in the world, you know? Fighting to protect people… that's a good thing. Better than the stupid duels I've been in lately." He wrinkled his nose. "Don't ever get in a duel, Morgan. It's horrible. Especially with a cheat. They have the advantage. You have scruples and they don't. But anyway, I'm quite good in a sword fight. Camelot would do well to have me, I'm telling you."_

 _Merlin raised an eyebrow at this bit of cockiness but digested the rest of his words thoughtfully. Arthur did not appear to notice._

 _"I know a man. His name is Gias." Merlin said quietly. "If you go to him, I'm sure he could find you a job."_

 _Arthur's features were accented interestingly in the orange flickering light as the man grinned. "Thanks, mate. I'll remember that." Laid back against a log, Arthur looked completely at ease despite the fact that only moment before they were running for their lives._

 _After a few moments of silence, Merlin finally plucked up the courage to ask. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"_

 _Arthur blinked. Laughed. "Afraid? You're a bloody twig."_

" _But-"_

" _I know. You've got magic. Yeah, that would scare me, but I've had a bit of an unusual bringing up. And… you didn't try to kill me before, even when I was pointing a knife at you. Self-preservation instinct says a lot about a man… Which reminds me, how do you live in Camelot with magic?"_

 _Merlin blinked, halfway wondering how that had reminded him of Camelot. The man certainly knew how to fill the air. He talked so fast, Merlin had to think hard to keep up. "I… I'm usually more controlled."_

" _Ah, light of the full moon right?"_

" _What?"_

" _Just joking. Wrong creature." He frowned. "Unless… You're not the werewolf, right?"_

" _What's a werewolf?"_

 _This seemed to surprise Arthur, he sat back. "Do you live under a rock, or what? There's a winged werewolf that's been wandering around Camelot for a few months. Smart too. Good control. Hasn't killed anyone or anything, amazingly. Last I heard, no one can catch him." Arthur smirked at this and studied Merlin face. "You really don't know what I'm talking about?"_

 _That didn't explain what a werewolf was, much less a winged one. "No," he said carefully. "My family is not_ fond _of magic. They sort of steer me away." True enough._

 _Arthur's eyes widened, appalled. "That's… horrible. How do you ever learn to control it? Magic, I mean."_

 _Merlin shrugged, still poking with the stick. "I don't. Not any more than to keep it hidden."_

 _Arthur lapsed into shocked silence. They stayed that way for a few minutes, thinking. Finally, Arthur spoke. "I was brought up by druids."_

 _Merlin's eyes flicked toward him instantly wary. The druids were a violent magic-users._

" _... My aunt, she's a druid, she raised me with my cousins because my parents were… gone."_

 _Merlin still said nothing._

" _I didn't have a lick of magic. I'm tellin' you, there has never been more of a squib in that camp than me..."_

 _Wait. That didn't fit._

" _But-" Merlin interrupted him. "I thought the druids kill people without magic."_

 _Arthur stopped mid-word. He blinked. "You've got to be joking. They really did a number on you. The druids, or at least most of them, are_ pacifists _. Don't get involved with anything. Ever. It's actually rather infuriating…" He trailed off while Merlin digested this, shocked. "Anyway, I took up sword fighting, much to their disapproval, as you can imagine, and got quite good. When I was fifteen, my aunt died, an attack, and I left the druid camp. Been sort of wandering around ever since…" Arthur sighed in a reminiscent tone. "So yeah, that's why I'm not scared of magic. It's a tool. Just like a sword." Arthur nudged his sword, which lay on the floor delicately covered by a cloth. "Depends on wielding it."_

 _Merlin had never heard of magic like that. He didn't believe Arthur, of course. His magic was evil. It was. If it wasn't, then he wouldn't feel guilty every time he used it._

 _And he felt guilty just thinking about magic._

 _They talked into the night, and it was well past three in the morning when Merlin stood suddenly. "I need to get back," he said, his stomach twisting. "They don't know I'm out here."_

 _Arthur frowned. "The gates don't open until morning."_

 _Merlin paused at this. He thought quickly. He needed to get back in. But there was no way he could leave without telling Arthur about how he'd get inside. "There's a tunnel into the square. It's secret so... don't go lead an army in there or something."_

 _Arthur smiled wryly and stood. He stamped out the coals of his fire. "I'll come with you, then."_

 _Merlin was rather glad he hadn't lied. There really was a small tunnel into the lower courts. After they entered, Merlin pointed him toward an inn and Gias' house and said farewell. Arthur slapped him rather hard on the back._

" _It was a pleasure to meet you, Morgan. Perhaps we'll cross paths again." Merlin highly doubted this, but he nodded._

" _Maybe."_

 _With that, they parted ways. Merlin doubled back into the forest, fetched his mask and cloak, snuck back into the castle, and collapsed, exhausted on the bed. He took the time to hide his muddy boots, but then he was asleep._

Only to be woken up two hours later. It felt like two seconds later. The rims of his eyes stung.

He'd finished packing, ready to set off. The morning light drifted dustily through a partially opened window, and Merlin peered through the glass. Camelot bustled beneath him, oblivious to the secret escapade that he had just managed to pull off.

He went outside. Someone saw him without his mask.

And he got away with it.

Merlin grinned. What was Arthur doing around now?

Probably still sleeping. It was just past dawn. Merlin yawned. _Sounds nice._

The door creaked behind him, and Merlin jumped away from the window guiltily. As if his intruder would know what he was thinking about. Merlin spun around and relaxed. "Morgana," he said with a small smile.

Her green eyes were brimming with tears. She looked around desperately and spotted the bag on his bed. In her usual fashion, she did not speak until she was composed. Her voice shook only slightly "It's true then. Uther is making you leave."

"I'll be fine." Merlin said.

"Fine!" Anger now curled into her features. "Fine? How dare he! How dare he make you leave!" She crossed her arms. "His own son."

Merlin's chest hitched slightly at this. He said nothing and Morgana's anger drained away. "He's saying it's a diplomatic mission," Merlin finally managed.

Morgana snorted. "Diplomatic my arse."

"Morgana!"

"Don't act like you didn't think it!" With a huff, she sat roughly in a wooden chair. She was wearing a simple blue dress that trailed near her ankles. Barefoot. She trembled with anger. "This is going to come back to get him someday, Merlin. You'll see. The way he treats you. It's… inhumane. And all because-"

Merlin interrupted her quickly. "Morgana. You know we can't talk about that."

Morgana looked like she had half a mind to ignore him. But instead, she stood, graceful as always, even with her fists clenched. "I could talk to him. Again."

Merlin frowned. "Morgana, you shouldn't have talked to him in the first place. It's better this way anyway." He turned and stared out the window, knuckles white on the sill.

Morgana took a step back. "You… want to leave?"

"Course not. But, maybe, this way, I can _do_ something. Without him breathing down by back."

For a long time, Morgana was silent; so long, Merlin thought she might have stormed off. But then she spoke. Right behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist and hugged him tightly. "If that's how you feel, brother, then I'll drop it."

"Thank you." Merlin turned to face her. With a playful smile, she flicked back his hood a bit so that she could see the outline of his face.

"You're not so scary this way."

Merlin smiled. "You're not so snobby this way."

"I'm always nice to you!"

"Oh, really? Because sneaking a rat into someone's room is 'nice'-"

Morgana gasped in mock disbelief. "I was _twelve_. How did you know it was me?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I could _see_ you."

Huffing indignantly, Morgana smiled and walked to the door. "Farewell, for now, twig."

"Goodbye, sister."

Morgana turned back as she exited. "Oh, by the way, Uther said to tell you that your new manservant is waiting for you in the throne room."

Merlin's eyebrows raised. "That was fast."

"He's the king. He gets things done." Morgana cast him a last smile before sticking out her tongue and disappearing down the hall.

Merlin shook his head with a sad smile.

Pulling his bag onto his shoulder, Merlin opened the door into the hallway. _Into battle._

* * *

 **AN: WOOHOO. Hi. I'm back. Not dead. Again. Anyway, please leave juicy little REVIEWS. They mean _so much_ to me :)))**


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